


Not all treasure is silver and gold

by Lilibet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Crossdressing, M/M, Pining, Pirate!Obi-Wan, Pirate!Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon's a certified idiot, Sassy Obi-Wan Kenobi, so much pining Qui-Gon's growing a forest at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: Tonight was supposed to be a milk run. Get in, get the treasure, get out.It had been easy enough to acquire an invitation. Simply lining a few palms with gold and turning on the charm many thought he didn’t have had snagged him everything he needed. The dinner party was to be a lavish affair, the Lord hosting it as rich as he was deceitful. Qui-Gon and his crew didn’t think he’d miss the priceless treasures sitting all alone in his vault.Or, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are rival pirate captains. Qui-Gon plans a heist of a dinner party, but little does he know, Obi-Wan is planning the same thing.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Not all treasure is silver and gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDisdayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/gifts).



> All credit goes to the wonderful [LadyDisDayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne) for coming up with this absolutely delightful AU, and allowing me the honour of writing it. I hope I've done it justice!
> 
> And thank you to the quiobi discord for the never-ending inspiration in our unexpected pirate-themed week XD
> 
> Title shamelessly taken from Pirates of the Caribbean.

Tonight was supposed to be a milk run. Get in, get the treasure, get out.

It had been easy enough to acquire an invitation. Simply lining a few palms with gold and turning on the charm many thought he didn’t have had snagged him everything he needed. The dinner party was to be a lavish affair, the Lord hosting it as rich as he was deceitful. Qui-Gon and his crew didn’t think he’d miss the priceless treasures sitting all alone in his vault.

Qui-Gon had fished out his old dinner dress, shaking out the dust from a life long ago. The buttons and fastenings came back to him like second nature as he slipped the clothes on, and when he turned to face the mirror, he barely recognised himself.

The deep green waistcoat still fit him, accentuating his narrow hips to draw the eye, although the black silk breeches were a little tighter than he remembered, hugging his thighs in a way that bordered on indecent.

He found he didn’t quite mind.

Finally, he shrugged on the black coat, anxiously smoothing down the fabric and flicking imaginary dust off one shoulder. It was hard to believe this was once normal to him. The clothes were ill-fitting and uncomfortable, and he had to refrain from repeatedly pulling at his stock tie. Had it always felt this constricting?

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this unsteady before a job, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the uneasiness coiling in his stomach. He took a deep breath and swiftly redid the braid down his back, but even that action, usually calming, did nothing to allay his anxiety.

A knock on the door. It was time to go.

Qui-Gon straightened and let a mask of neutrality slip over his features. It would do no good if his crew sensed his uneasiness. They had a plan, it was a good plan, and it was going to work. Qui-Gon was sure of it.

But, oh, how wrong he was.

\--

The extravagance of the ballroom took Qui-Gon’s breath away, although he didn’t show it. Guests mingled about the room illuminated by crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Manicured hands bedecked in gleaming jewellery grasped glass flutes filled with a constant stream of alcohol, provided by expressionless straight-backed waiters ready to serve their every whim.

Qui-Gon kept to the edges of the room, the cacophony of raucous voices and high-pitched laughter a buzz in his ears as he surveyed the area. Each flash of gold and glimmer of a jewel caught his eye, and he made quick targets of the poor sods easiest to charm with honeyed words and false praise.

He introduced himself to a nearby nobleman, and if the man left the brief conversation with a few less accoutrements than when he entered it then, well, he should have been paying more attention to his belongings.

Qui-Gon snagged a drink from a passing waiter to hide his smile. It seemed he and his crew would be a mite richer than they anticipated by the end of the night.

Several conversations later and Qui-Gon was feeling thankful for the size of his pockets. He was taking his leave from his latest quarry when he turned in time to catch a flash of cobalt disappear onto a nearby balcony.

The room was nearly full of guests by now, which meant dinner should be on the way shortly. Qui-Gon smiled to himself when not two minutes later the clink of a crystal bell announced it was time to proceed to the dining hall.

The nobility were the same everywhere, it seemed.

The dining room was just as extravagant as the ballroom, although on a smaller scale. No expense had been spared, and the sheer excess of the two rooms alone made Qui-Gon grit his teeth. Here, the nobility wined and dined in luxury with more food and drink than they knew what to do with, while countless townsfolk not a five-minute walk away were hungry and starving.

Lord Palpatine’s new tax increases hadn’t been to fortify the islands defences at all, it seemed. The only people to see the extra money were the Lord and his friends, lining their already gold-lined pockets with more.

Qui-Gon couldn’t wait to see the look on this snivelling man’s face when he realised a substantial part of his fortune had been looted right under his nose.

The Lord took his seat at the head of the long mahogany table, waiting a few extra seconds before allowing everybody else to sit. Qui-Gon kept far away from him, seating himself on the opposite end of the table with a clear view to the rest of the room and the doors.

A pointed cough sounded behind him, and when he turned, Qui-Gon found himself beholding one of the most beautiful faces he’d ever seen. A woman gazed back at him, dressed in an exquisite corseted ballgown of cobalt blue that perfectly brought out her eyes. She had elegant features, aristocratic in a way that was oddly familiar, framed by a shock of black hair coiled up into an elaborate updo.

She raised an imperious eyebrow and with a cough Qui-Gon realised he’d been staring. He hastily stood.

“My lady, I– I apologise unreservedly.” He lowered his eyes and bowed his head in supplication.

“Perhaps you can make it up to me by helping a lady take her seat?”

Despite the insult to her person, her tone was teasing, the edges of her red lips curling into a playful smirk. Qui-Gon had to tear his eyes away from them lest he embarrass himself any further, but the knowing glint in the woman’s gaze sent heat rushing to Qui-Gon’s cheeks.

_What was wrong with him?_ There was only one person on this earth that drew these kinds of reactions from him, and he wasn’t exactly here in a blue dress, wearing bright red lipstick, and a black wig, was he?

To avoid putting his foot in his mouth even more than he already had, he quickly pulled back the chair next to his and helped the young woman take her seat. He retook his own and quickly took stock of the room. Nobody appeared to have noticed his blunder, distracted as they were by the first course being served.

The lady said nothing more beside him, content to eat with him in companionable silence. This was the perfect situation Qui-Gon could have hoped for, seated next to someone who didn’t demand his participation in mundane conversation about nothing, leaving him free to monitor his surroundings and prepare for the task ahead.

Yet, despite that, Qui-Gon found his attention inexorably drawn back to the woman beside him. He was too busy watching her out of his peripheral vision he couldn’t tell you a lick of information about the soup he’d just eaten.

Goosebumps pebbled the arm resting near hers, as though she’d brushed past him despite being at least a foot away. Occasionally, he’d catch the scent of her perfume, a subtle aroma of jasmine, intense and exotic, with an undercurrent of a rich, earthy smell he couldn’t quite place.

There was just something about her that drew him in. It was inexplainable.

The first course finished, and the crockery whisked away, and Qui-Gon tried valiantly to remove his focus from the young woman. The clink of a spoon on glass quieted the room, and the Lord began making his customary toast. At least it was something else for Qui-Gon to focus on, the droning voice of the man an easy white noise.

But tonight didn’t seem to be going Qui-Gon’s way, because the woman chose that exact moment to conspiratorially lean towards Qui-Gon.

“Lady Catherine and the Earl of Bridgewater are fucking, you know,” she said quietly, as casually as if she was commenting on the fine weather they’d been having lately.

Qui-Gon choked on air. It wasn’t so much _what_ the woman had said, but rather _how_ she’d said it. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a noblewoman to use the word ‘fucking’ in any context whatsoever.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and quickly flicked his eyes around the room before dubiously eyeing her. “I beg your pardon?”

She simply smirked, drawing Qui-Gon’s gaze back to her lips. “Oh, it’s obvious. Can’t you tell?”

Qui-Gon surreptitiously looked to the man and woman in question, both enraptured by the apparently engrossing toast, but came up utterly blank.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me, my lady.”

She took a quick sip of her drink and leant on her elbow to lean further into Qui-Gon’s space. “It’s the pearls,” she whispered, as if she was imparting a great secret upon him.

Qui-Gon looked at her blankly and she chuckled. It was surprisingly husky, and it sent a shiver down Qui-Gon’s spine.

“They belong to the Earl’s family estate, specifically his late grandmother.” She lowered her voice further. “Although no one would notice unless they have an eye for jewellery.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you do?”

“Why, of course.” She leaned back and gestured to herself. “One doesn’t look like this without an understanding of elegance. Of knowing what jewellery to pair with what outfit to draw the eye and enhance ones...assets.”

Qui-Gon opened his mouth, but the mischievous twinkle that appeared in her eyes brought a sudden and unexplained pang to his chest and stopped his words in their tracks. He picked up his drink instead, and the woman took that as her cue to continue.

“Considering the amount of jewellery currently on your person, I would have thought you’d at least know something about it.” Qui-Gon froze and his stomach dropped to the floor. “Tell me, do you often come to dinner parties with pockets full of other people’s jewellery?”

He choked on his drink, and the faux innocent expression on the woman’s face told him she’d timed her question perfectly. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and took a few sips of water to ease the tickle in his throat, biding his time to gather his thoughts.

The woman was swiftly proving far more dangerous than a simple distraction. _Had she seen him earlier?_ Qui-Gon prided himself on his pickpocket ability, he only knew of one man better at it than he. And Qui-Gon had been taught by him. He hadn’t seen the woman in the room until minutes before dinner was announced, long after his string of thefts. He was certain he would have noticed her.

Time was up, and Qui-Gon had come up empty. She was watching him intently, her chin resting in the palm of one hand, as though waiting to see how he’d work his way out of this mess.

Qui-Gon sighed internally. At this point, denial seemed the only credible option. He had no doubt she’d see through any lie he told, but he wasn’t about to outright admit his guilt to a random person he’d known for all of half an hour.

Even if she did feel oddly familiar.

“I don’t quite catch your meaning, my lady,” Qui-Gon hedged.

She grinned at him, and suddenly Qui-Gon was looking at a different scene in another time.

_He whirled in the water, half-naked and grinning like a madman. Swirls of tattoos covered his chest, and Qui-Gon could swear God had made that chest just to tempt him into sinful thoughts no man should have._

Qui-Gon jerked and swiftly turned from the woman, casting his eyes away to collect himself after the sudden onslaught of emotion. He hadn’t expected that memory to assault him so viscerally, hadn’t even expected it to appear at all. It resonated through him, his heart aching for the unfinished story.

The room suddenly felt too warm and his blood was rushing loudly in his ears, drowning every other noise into nothing. He wiped his clammy palms on his thighs.

“–orry, did I say something wrong?”

Qui-Gon jolted again at a light touch to his shoulder. The woman was eyeing him in concern, apology radiating from her. Qui-Gon just stared.

“You remind me of someone,” he blurted.

“Oh? A special someone?” She teased.

“Yes,” he answered softly, “a man far away from me. Even when he’s near it’s like we’re oceans apart.”

The woman paused, a pensive expression stealing across her features.

“I’m not what he wants,” Qui-Gon clarified.

Her eyes softened in understanding, and Qui-Gon wondered who could ever let this woman slip through their fingers.

She laid her hand gently on top of his.

“Do not give up hope. You do not know what he may be hiding behind a mask of fear.”

Qui-Gon looked at her curiously as her gaze slowly trailed across his face before settling on his eyes. His heart thumped in his chest and butterflies fluttered in his stomach as they gazed at each other

A round of applause broke the charged moment, and she seemed to realise her hand was resting still on his. She jerkily pulled it away and awkwardly cleared her throat.

The next course of food was being served, but Qui-Gon hardly noticed.

The evening passed much quicker than Qui-Gon had anticipated, the titillating conversation flowing rapidly between him and the mysterious woman like a river. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, not to mention whip smart and delightfully witty to boot. It made Qui-Gon long for another; a firebrand redhead with a sharp tongue and enough sass to fill the oceans twice over.

By the time Lord Palpatine rose to signal the end of dinner and exit the dining room, Qui-Gon had almost forgotten where he was and why he was here.

In the ballroom, a string orchestra struck up a tune and some unlucky woman was pulled into the first dance of the evening, customarily danced by the Lord. Qui-Gon sniggered into his drink from his place leaning against a wall and had to bite back a squawk when the woman, who he’d only just realised he didn’t actually know the name of, elbowed him in the ribs.

It only made him snigger harder and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from outright laughing. The woman was trying equally hard not to laugh, Qui-Gon could tell, biting her own lips in a way that was entirely too distracting.

Not long after, the music changed, and she turned to him, face still alight with mirth.

“Care to join me for a dance, Mister...?”

“Oh no, I don’t dance, I’m afraid. Far too tall for–“

But he was too slow. She grabbed his hand viper-fast and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled him onto the dancefloor. She placed his hand on her waist and entwined the fingers of the other with her own, and together, they seamlessly joined the other dancing couples.

They swept around the ballroom, feet perfectly in time, not a step out of sync. Her hand was small in his large one, although he was surprised to feel calluses scraping against his skin. This woman just got more mysterious by the minute.

“You have some skill for a man who says he doesn’t dance.”

Qui-Gon huffed out a breath and looked down at her. She was the perfect height for him to tuck her head under his chin, and he shook his head to dispel the errant thought. The fabric of the corset under his hand was rough, and he found himself running his thumb back and forth over it even though she wouldn’t be able to feel it.

Raising her gaze, she pinned him with an indecipherable look. “So, tell me. How does a man like you, handsome and dashing, who can dance like a nobleman despite his protests to the contrary,” she paused and gave him a full body once over with her eyes, “not to mention looking like he could kill a man with his bare hands, come here alone?”

The sudden heat in her eyes made Qui-Gon hot under the collar and he swallowed thickly. Her hand felt like a brand on his shoulder.

“Tell me your name and perhaps I’ll divulge my secret,” he countered, surprised when his voice came out much steadier than he felt.

His heart was hammering so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it burst out of his chest at any moment. At this point, he was dancing on autopilot, oblivious to everyone else in the room.

The woman let out a low, silky laugh that shuddered down Qui-Gon’s spine and coiled warm and lazy in his gut. He’d long ago stopped trying to figure out his reactions to her. Just another mystery to add to this enigma wrapped in a corset.

“Now, now,” she purred, flashing a coy smile, “you know it’s dangerous for a young woman to give her name to a strange and mysterious man.”

Qui-Gon levelled a flat look at her. She fought valiantly to keep a straight face, but laughter won out and she threw her head back. Her mirth was contagious and Qui-Gon found himself unable to suppress his own grin.

The music changed into an upbeat jig, the tune to an old folkdance Qui-Gon was sure he still remembered the steps to. Still laughing, he spun the woman out of his embrace and faced her opposite him, quickly stepping in line with the other dancers.

They danced for hours, laughter and drink flowing freely, until they were covered in sweat and breathless. Qui-Gon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this carefree and happy. Their current dance finished, and Qui-Gon was preparing for another when the clock struck midnight and the bells chimed.

All at once, the buzz left him. _What the hell was he doing?_ He was in the middle of a heist and here he was getting drunk and dancing and completely losing track of all time and sense. Had he been knocked on the head?

It was time. He had to leave, but it felt too rude to just up and leave the poor woman without a goodbye, so he beckoned her over.

“While I have greatly enjoyed your company, my lady, I’m afraid I must leave.” He cupped one of her hands in his and held it over his heart.

“Far be it from me to take a man away from his business,” She briefly bowed her head and then leaned up and placed a soft kiss to the corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth, lingering there for a moment too long.

When she pulled back, Qui-Gon opened his eyes from where they’d slipped closed and let out a shaky breath. She smiled sadly at him before slipping her hand out of his grip and gliding through the crowd to a door on the opposite side of the room.

Qui-Gon watched her go, feeling oddly bereft.

After she disappeared, Qui-Gon took a moment to collect himself. It would do no good to be distracted now. The woman was gone, and he would never see her again.

It was time to get to work.

\--

Qui-Gon cursed for the fifth time in three minutes. While he was an excellent pickpocket, he was an atrocious lockpicker. Hands too big for the delicate touch needed to coax a lock open. Why his crew had decided _he_ was the one to commit the heist, Qui-Gon would never understand.

Finally, a click sounded like music to his ears, and he suppressed his whoop of joy. He didn’t want to have to explain to Mace that he got caught because he got overexcited at picking a lock. He’d never hear the end of it.

The door swung open and Qui-Gon near as dammit gawked at the riches that greeted him. It gleamed and shined, and he felt like child opening a present on his birthday. That giddy feeling bubbling up in his chest until he felt like laughing. Golden plates and goblets, precious jewels and stones, and all manner of priceless treasures stared back at him.

But he hadn’t come for them, he’d come for the chest sat forlornly at the back of the room.

Small but deceptively heavy, Qui-Gon hefted it off the stone stand and hauled it as quietly as he could out of the room. By the time he reached the rendezvous, an upstairs bedroom in the guest wing, he was covered in a sheen of sweat.

He opened the far window of the room and found a rope waiting. _Perfect._ He checked the lid of the chest was secure and tied one end of the rope to one of the side handles and the other to a hitching ring on the wall.

Leaning out of the window, he spied the empty boat waiting for him below, the canal and the surrounding streets blissfully empty at this time of night.

Slowly, he lowered the chest out of the window and into the boat until he heard it land with a quiet thud. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Now it was his turn. He was climbing onto the stone windowsill when he heard the door open behind him.

“Well, hello there,” a voice drawled.

Qui-Gon sighed and closed his eyes, “Obi-Wan. I should have known.”

“Hello, my dear Captain.”

Qui-Gon turned and Obi-Wan grinned, striding towards him, eyes bright with amusement. He’d left the blood red lipstick on, and Qui-Gon licked his lips, wishing he’d taken the chance to taste of those lips earlier. The ballgown was long gone though, swapped for a pair of tight leather pants that left nothing to the imagination, a familiar sword slung on familiar hips, and a loose white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Most of the buttons were undone, the swirls of his tattoos tantalisingly on show, and Qui-Gon had the sudden urge to know what they tasted like.

Qui-Gon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “The gold is gone, Obi-Wan. You’re too late.”

“And who says that’s the treasure I’m here for, hm?” He reached out and traced an elegant finger down Qui-Gon’s cheek.

“What else could you possibly be here for?”

“You,” Obi-Wan answered.

His expression was solemn as he looked at Qui-Gon, so close that Qui-Gon could feel his breath on his face, yet so far that he was afraid to reach out and touch in case Obi-Wan disappeared like smoke yet again. They’d chased each other across the seven seas for years, fighting and clashing and flirting, but always rivals. Always competing.

It was just a game to him.

Obi-Wan has never wanted Qui-Gon.

His thoughts must have showed on his face, or maybe Obi-Wan could just read him that well, because his expression shifted and hardened in determination.

“I think it’s time I showed you, then.”

Obi-Wan dragged his hand down Qui-Gon’s chest and fisted his shirt, coat and waistcoat long gone, and pulled him away from the wall. He prowled forward, backing Qui-Gon across the room until his knees hit the bed and he was shoved onto it.

Looking up at him, Qui-Gon’s breath stuttered sharp and wild in his chest. This was the firebrand he’d missed, eyes fierce as he devoured Qui-Gon with a hungry gaze he’d never seen before. Or maybe it had always been there, only hidden.

That was a dangerous thought to entertain, but Qui-Gon’s traitorous heart couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Now I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Obi-Wan straddled Qui-Gon’s thighs, sliding onto his lap and threading fingers through his long mane to expose his neck to biting kisses, and Qui-Gon could do nothing but grip Obi-Wan’s hips in an effort to ground himself as he worked his way across Qui-Gon’s delicate skin.

“You looked ravishing tonight, so handsome. Commanding the dancefloor with a confidence I only ever see from you in a fight,” Obi-Wan pulled back to nuzzle their noses together, “It took all my self-control to stop myself from bending over for you then and there.”

Qui-Gon growled low in his chest and wrapped Obi-Wan’s braided hair around his hand, the wig now discarded in favour of his beautiful auburn, and pulled his head back until he was looking at Qui-Gon through heavy-lidded eyes. Then, he licked up Obi-Wan’s jaw.

“Not as beautiful as you. You should wear a corset more often, Obi-Wan.” He let the hair slip from his grip and brought his lips a hairsbreadth away from Obi-Wan’s. “If only so I can be the one to remove it."

Obi-Wan whimpered and squirmed in Qui-Gon’s lap, “Yes,” he breathed, “please.”

Qui-Gon waited a beat, drawing out the tension for a second longer, revelling in the sensation of it snapping and crackling over his skin. But he could only hold out so long, and those sinful lips have been distracting him all night.

The kiss was deep and open-mouthed, slow and exploratory before it rapidly turned desperate and hungry. Qui-Gon lost himself in the slide of lips and the nibbling bites Obi-Wan gave, the breathy moans he let out when they hit the right angle.

It was better than any fantasy his mind had conjured up, and Qui-Gon didn’t know how he’d carry on if he never got to have this again.

Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped into his hair again, lips trailing across his jaw and down his neck, and Qui-Gon moved to pull Obi-Wan’s shirt out of his pants, wanting nothing more than to taste every inch of pale skin and the tattoos that decorated it.

He’d heard many things about the tattoos of Captain Obi-Wan Kenobi, and now he wanted to see them all for himself. He wanted to learn their twists and turns, trace them over the rises and dips of Obi-Wan’s body, learn how they tasted with a sheen of sweat on them and Obi-Wan writhing underneath him.

A horn blasted, loud and sudden, and they both jolted. They paused, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, eyes unfocused with the haze of lust. Qui-Gon was the first to reluctantly pull away, already mourning the loss of those lips from his neck.

Obi-Wan sighed and slid from his lap with a lingering kiss, whispering the words that would haunt Qui-Gon for weeks against his lips, “Until next time, Captain.”

Qui-Gon watched him gracefully climb out of the window, rope in hand, before throwing a wink at Qui-Gon and disappearing down to the boat and treasure waiting below.

And taking Qui-Gon’s heart with him.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part! Probably. C'mon, we all wanna see these boys get together properly, don't we?


End file.
